FTO Loquacious
by rittenden
Summary: As ordered by 3rdgal at numb3rs dot org. Larry comforts his best friend's brother in a time of need.


**characters-** Don and Larry  
**setting-** Car accident  
**situation-** Don was leaving Charlie's office and Larry needed a ride (where to is up to you) but his car was in the shop. Don gives him a ride and they are involved in a pretty bad accident. Don is stuck in the car while they wait for help and in a great deal of pain so Larry tries to console him. At the end, a brother moment where Don tells Charlie something about the kind of person Larry is.  
**mood-** awkward  
**reference (this is the word)-** loquacious

**A/N:** Thank you to 3rdgal for requesting this story. You always come up with the neatest ideas.

**Loquacious**

Charlie scanned the file in his hands. "Yeah, I think I can…" He turned a page. "No – I'm _sure_ I can come up with something for you by this afternoon," he corrected, looking up with a smile.

"That'd be great," Don replied, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "The sooner we can get moving on this, the better." He glanced at his watch and added, "I should get back – you'll call me when you have something?"

"As soon as-" Charlie's reply was interrupted by a familiar, if distracted, voice.

"Charles?"

Both Don and Charlie turned to see Larry Fleinhardt bearing down on them. "Yeah, Larry?" Charlie called back. Don raised an eyebrow and Charlie whispered, "I'll explain later." Louder, he asked, "What is it?"

Larry ambled up to them, idly scratching his head. "I was just wondering if you were going anywhere this afternoon," he answered.

"I wasn't planning on it, Larry," Charlie replied. "Why do you ask?"

Clasping his hands together under his chin, the physicist-turned-recluse said, "I have to get back to the monastery. I was hoping to make it by mass, but at the rate events have been unfolding as of late, I'll be lucky to make it back for vespers."

Charlie fought hard not to roll his eyes. "Larry," he said patiently. "What are you talking about?"

"The monastery, Charles," Larry repeated. "I have to get back."

"Yes, yes… I understood that part," Charlie replied. "What do you mean, you'd be lucky to make it back for vespers?"

Larry wrung his hands in agitation and glanced around. "You know – vespers, evening devotions." He sighed at the perplexed look on his friend's face. "By six o'clock, Charles," he said finally.

"Ah." Charlie's confusion dissipated somewhat. "And mass?"

"Lunchtime."

Charlie nodded. "Right." He glanced at his brother, who was watching the conversation unfold in amusement. "And why can't you get back by noon?" Charlie asked. Checking his watch, he added, "It's only eight-thirty."

Larry clasped his hands on the top of his head and wagged his elbows. "My car – in which, as you know, I used to transport myself here – seems to have developed a slight hiccough in its carburetion system that I was unable to diagnose in time," he said.

"In time for…?" Charlie let the question trail off.

"For preventing it from failing completely. Charles," Larry went on, a slight note of exasperation in his voice. "My intention for seeking you out this morning is one of utmost simplicity. Since you invited me to come and partake of your and your father's hospitality for the week-end, I thought it not impolitic to ask if I could impose upon you for a ride."

"I see." Charlie looked at Don, who was hiding a grin behind his hand. "Well, Larry," the mathematician went on with a glint in his eye. "I'd love to give you a ride to…"

"The bus terminal."

"The bus terminal," Charlie echoed. "But since Don has asked me to look this over for him, I'm afraid I can't." He waved the folder dramatically. At Larry's crestfallen expression, he added, "Don was just saying he had to get back to the office – I'm sure he wouldn't mind dropping you off." Charlie turned to his brother with a smile. "Would you, Don?" he asked.

The grin left abruptly. "Uh, well…" Don stammered.

Larry put in, "Would you, Don? I would be eternally in your debt."

Don glanced from Charlie's 'gotcha' look to Larry's hopeful one. Swallowing down a sigh of resignation he replied, "I'd be happy to, Larry. No problem."

"Thank you so much, Don," Larry replied sincerely. "I'll just go grab my belongings." He turned and hurried away.

Charlie took a step back. "Murder is still illegal, Don," he said quickly. "Don't forget."

"Not likely." Don glanced in the direction Larry had gone. "Mind explaining what just happened here?" he asked.

"It was Dad's idea, actually," Charlie replied. "Since Larry's withdrawal from the general population, he's been kind of worried that we'll lose touch with him completely." He shrugged. "We gave him some time to be alone, and then last Thursday Larry called the house saying he was in the neighborhood…"

Don regarded him skeptically. "In the neighborhood?"

"I guess." Charlie shrugged again. "Anyway, once Dad heard he was on his way over, he went up and straightened out the solarium. When Larry showed up, he asked him to stay for the weekend."

Smiling softly and shaking his head, Don replied, "Sounds like Dad."

Charlie returned the smile. "Yeah. Anyway – Larry agreed. He seemed a little quiet at first, but he eventually relaxed and it was almost like before." By 'before', Don knew he meant 'before he went into outer space and became a stranger to me'. "Last night," Charlie went on. "Larry told me and Dad that he was going to head back to the monastery in the morning."

"And then his car broke down, apparently."

"Apparently." The sly grin returned. "And now you get to brave Monday morning traffic with the loquacious Professor Fleinhardt," he finished.

Don looked down the walk to where Larry was, once again, heading toward them. "Thanks."

**NUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RS**

"I really do appreciate this, Don," Larry said for the third time in ten minutes.

Don bit back a groan of frustration. "I told you, Larry – it's no problem," he replied. "Like Charlie said, I was heading downtown anyway."

The smaller man nodded once. "Still…"

"Tell you what," Don interrupted. "If it makes you feel better, you can pay me back, alright?"

Larry shook his head vehemently. "Since I went into seclusion," he protested. "I've pretty much sworn off material chattel." Don glanced at him. "Possessions," he explained. "Material possessions."

"Ah." Don's gaze returned to the traffic in front of them. "So," he said after a moment. "What made you decide to go into a monastery, Larry? If you don't mind me asking."

Steepling his fingers under his chin, Larry mused, "It was more of a cerebral pursuit, I suppose. Upon returning to our terrestrial sphere after such a prolonged absence, I felt constricted by my diurnal being." He sighed softly. "When I was up there," he went on, looking upwards out the window. "I was overwhelmed by the sheer vastness of the cosmos. The realization that we humans, who think we are so exceptional – so singular in our existence – are no more than atomic particles in an infinite universe. Going into seclusion has allowed me the space and freedom I need to readjust to being a mere speck on this mortal coil."

Don's eyebrows rose. "That's… an interesting way of putting it," he said quietly.

Larry nodded. "It's true, Don," he replied somberly. "We are no more exceptional or important than a grain of sand on an immeasurable beach."

"Good to know," Don muttered, flipping on his signal to change lanes and speeding up slightly.

Sensing the tension in his voice, Larry went on, "That isn't to say our existence is meaningless, by any stretch of the imagination." Don nodded. "But it's just not as significant as we believe it to be."

Don remained silent as they sped along the freeway, secretly relieved that traffic was thinning out and the end of their journey was within reach. Larry wisely kept quiet, unwilling to upset his friend's brother any further.

As they rounded a bend in the road, the car in front of them suddenly swerved into oncoming traffic. Don twisted the wheel to the right to avoid being hit, only to have to spin it back as another car loomed in front of them. Larry's mouth fell open in a silent 'o' as Don fought to keep the heavy SUV under control, zigzagging through the jumble of automobiles that bore down on them with alarming speed. Just when they had a clear path to the shoulder and out of harm's way, a semi came around the corner heading in the opposite direction, the driver obviously thinking to avoid the worst of the chaos by driving on the wrong side of the road. Don swore and swung the wheel to the left, then suddenly changed tactics and twirled it to the right. The highway rig swerved but there wasn't enough room for both vehicles and the massive truck slammed into the side of Don's SUV, sending it spinning across the road, slamming into a guardrail and rocking it up on two wheels.

Larry held his breath as the vehicle was momentarily off-balance, well aware of the steep incline on the other side of the rail. A heartbeat later the SUV came back down, slamming into the earth with bone-jarring force and then going still. He closed his eyes briefly, saying a silent 'thank you' to whoever was in charge, then opened them and looked around.

The semi driver had managed to get his truck stopped on the opposite shoulder, its front end mangled. The passenger door opened and a large man in a t-shirt two sizes too small for him was awkwardly climbing out of the rig, his progress hampered by the jumble of items that had apparently been on the seat beside him at the time of impact, but was now littering the floor of the cab.

Looking over his shoulder, Larry could see a massive pile-up of cars and trucks strewn across the road. He could hear the sound of car horns and squealing brakes as other drivers rounded the bend and caught sight of the accident. Thankfully, there were no more collisions, as near as he could tell. At least a dozen cars rested in a sea of twisted metal and broken glass, effectively cutting off traffic flow in both directions.

Satisfied that they were safe for the moment from another collision, Larry turned to his companion. His heart stopped briefly at the sight of Don, unconscious, his head resting against the doorframe and covered in blood. More blood coated the steering wheel and the cracked windshield in front of him, and for a moment Larry thought Don hadn't put on his seatbelt. A quick glance downward told him differently, however, and he allowed himself a small breath of relief.

"Hey, buddy!" Larry was startled by the loud, panicked voice of the truck driver. "You okay in there?"

"Does he look like he's in peak condition?" Larry snapped, waving a hand in Don's direction. "We need an ambulance!" The driver hurried away, and Larry unfastened his seatbelt clumsily, hampered by the sudden realization that the fingers of his right hand wouldn't obey him. Once he was free of his restraint, Larry slid across the seat and repeated the process with Don's belt. "Don?" he called as he worked. "Don – answer me, please."

Don remained still and Larry began to fear the worst. Reaching up with his left hand, he placed his fingers against the other man's throat in search of a pulse. Suddenly realizing he didn't have a clue as to where he would find one, Larry transferred his fingers to his own neck, feeling around until he'd located it. He copied the action on Don, relieved to feel a slight throb under his fingertips. Although not as strong as his own, it was still there and Larry whispered, "Thank god." In a louder voice he said, "Don, it's Larry – can you hear me?"

A low moan issued from Don's mouth. His head moved slightly and Larry was reminded of all the things he'd been told about accident victims. "Don't move, okay?" he said quickly. "Just sit very still." He wracked his brain, but couldn't think of what to do next. "Uh," he began. "Do you… can you open your eyes, Don?"

In answer, Don's eyelids fluttered restlessly and then opened to mere slits. Larry couldn't tell if Don was looking at him or not, so he decided to think optimistically. "That's good, Don," he said. "Very good. Now – can you tell me where it hurts?"

Don's lips parted slightly and Larry leaned closer to hear what he was saying. "…Over."

"All over?" Larry asked. "No, don't nod. I'll just assume that's what you said." He glanced over his shoulder, dismayed to find they were still alone. Looking back at Don, he went on, "Help is on the way, I presume. The Neanderthal driving the tractor-trailer seemed to be in search of a cell phone."

"…Mine," Don whispered. "Belt."

Larry looked down. There, clipped to Don's waist, was his cell phone. Cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner, Larry grabbed the device, only to let go again when Don cried out in pain. "What did I do?" he asked, recoiling.

"Dunno," Don rasped. "…Hurt."

Craning his neck, Larry could just barely see the other side of Don's body. The door of the truck was crumpled inward, jagged shards of metal poking through the door panel. He could only assume that some of the twisted debris was affecting Don somehow. "Alright," he said at last. "I guess we leave the phone where it is."

Don licked his lips. "How…"

"You don't remember?" Larry asked. "I would imagine you would have a slight amount of anterograde amnesia," he mused. "Considering the injuries you've sustained."

"Larry," Don breathed, exasperation in his thin voice. "…Talking about?"

Larry shook his head apologetically. "Short-term memory loss, Don," he replied. "It's only to be expected. Nothing to worry about really – it'll either come back or it won't."

Don moaned again, this time in frustration. "Larry."

"Yes?"

"How… bad?" The effort left Don breathless and his complexion paled visibly.

Leaning forward, Larry tried to get as complete a picture of Don's condition as he could. What he saw worried him. "You, um… seem to have attempted to put paid to one of the primary laws of physics," he answered. "Namely, that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time."

Don huffed a short bark of laughter. "That…teach me," he said.

"Yes, well." Larry sat back. "I can think of simpler and less alarming ways to learn the lesson." He glanced over his shoulder again. "And less… dire," he added sadly.

"…Others?"

Larry turned back to him. "I'm afraid there are probably numerous injuries as a result of this incident," he replied. Don's eyelids slid closed, his breathing becoming more shallow. "Don?" Larry said quickly. "Don – open your eyes."

Don obeyed, but very slowly. "…Phone," he said at last, his words no more than a whisper.

"Don, I don't think-"

"Do it." Don closed his eyes, biting his lip when Larry gingerly eased the phone out of the clip on his belt. When it was free, Don relaxed slightly, slumping in his seat.

Unable to use his right hand, Larry set the phone on the seat beside him and reached out to check Don's pulse with his left. It was still there, but much weaker than before. "Don?" Larry said, tamping down his panic. "Don, talk to me."

After a moment Don murmured, "…Sorry."

"That's alright," Larry replied, relieved. "Just try to stay awake, please? The constant pendulum-swing of emotion regarding your wellbeing has become a trifle challenging."

"Sorry," Don repeated, his breathing becoming more labored. "Need… rest."

Larry frowned and picked up the phone. "As long as you don't 'rest' yourself out of existence," he countered, dialing the number and putting the device to his ear. When the call was answered, he said, "There's been a terrible accident… My friend is seriously injured." He paused briefly. "I am aware that you have probably already received reports concerning the incident. We are on the opposite side of the encounter and I am worried that your rescue personnel won't arrive in time to render assistance to him." Larry listened for a moment, his eyes scanning Don's body. "He apparently has a head injury… I would imagine there is other trauma to the rest of his body as well – we were hit by a tractor-trailer unit, you see." Don drew in a shuddering gasp. "He's finding it difficult to breathe," Larry went on. "We need immediate assistance." Pausing again, the physicist continued in a heated tone, "I am well aware of the severity of the situation, miss! I am _also_ aware that, unless you send emergency personnel to this location from _both_ directions, some people may not survive this incident! The road is completely blocked!"

Whatever the operator said must have been reassuring, because Larry's agitation waned slightly. "I understand," he said. "Yes, thank you. I am attempting to keep him awake, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. He seems to have lost a large quantity of blood."

"Larry…" Don whispered.

"Yes, thank you," Larry finished, snapping the phone shut and dropping it on the seat. "Yes, Don?" he asked. "What is it?"

Licking dry lips, Don replied, "Make sure… call Dad… Charlie."

"I will indeed."

"Tell them…" Don paused for breath, the air whistling in his throat. "…Love them."

Panic gripped Larry's chest. "You – you can tell them yourself, Don," he said quickly. "As soon as we get you cleaned up. I'm afraid your current appearance might alarm them unnecessarily."

"Don't…" Don murmured. "Not good."

"You'll be fine," Larry assured him. "The ambulance is on its way, I assure you."

"…Late."

Larry turned in his seat to face Don squarely. "Don't talk like that, Don," he chided sternly. "The power of the mind is not to be underestimated. You need to think positive."

Don sighed. "Positive…" he said. "…Doesn't… look good."

"Maybe not," the other man conceded. "But there are many people – including a few very dear friends of mine – who would be devastated if you gave up now."

"Not… important."

Larry frowned. "What do you mean you're not important?" he asked. "You're very important-" He broke off as he realized what Don was referring to. "Oh… no, no, Don. That isn't what I meant."

"…Mean?" Don's skin was alarmingly pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. That, mingled with the dirt and blood, made Larry think of some kind of otherworldly being come to earth.

"I meant humanity as a whole, Don," Larry replied, leaning forward to make sure the other man was still conscious. "The entire human race needs to come to the realization that we are not unique – that out of the billions of stars and trillions of planets, there must be other life in the universe." He hesitated. "To coin a phrase, 'Nature abhors a vacuum'. For humankind to think that we are superior beings is just… laughable. Especially considering we don't know what is out there."

Don was quiet long enough for Larry's anxiety to resurface. "…Not laughing," he said at last.

"I think that's wise," Larry replied. Looking down at his injured hand, he went on, "The metaphor about the sand…"

"Life's… beach."

Smiling ruefully, the physicist replied, "That is true, but the point I was trying to make was – there were millions before and there will be millions after. It's ludicrous to think that one grain is more significant than another."

"…Pebbles."

"Pebbles?" he mused. "A pebble is merely bigger, Don. It makes more of an impact – is more noticeable – but at the end of all things, it winds up as grains of sand too."

Don made as if to lift his hand, hissing in pain as he did so. "Bradford…" he said, gasping for air.

Confused, Larry asked, "Bradford? I'm not familiar with his work. Is he an astrophysicist?"

"Shrink…"

"Shrink…" Larry repeated. His expression cleared. "Oh – Bradford is your psychiatrist?"

"Yeah." The word almost disappeared as Don struggled for breath. Larry opened his mouth to tell him he didn't need to continue, but Don cut him off. "Said… it's what you do… that matters."

Larry considered this. "I see," he said at last.

"What?"

"I have to admit I hadn't considered that," Larry replied, tapping his finger against his chin thoughtfully. "Very interesting."

Don sighed. "…Larry…"

The sound of sirens interrupted the professor's thoughts and he looked up to make sure Don had heard. "Help's arrived, I believe," he said.

"…'Splain," Don insisted.

Larry nodded. "To expand on my earlier analogy," he began. "We all may be grains of sand on an infinite beach – but one must not discount the ocean."

"What?"

"The ocean," he repeated. "The ocean is the journey. To get to the beach, the sand must first cross the ocean. The storms, the changing tides, the extreme temperatures and severe pressures – it must weather all of that before it can reach the shore." He paused, waiting to see if Don responded.

"So," Don said at last. "If… doesn't get… that far…?"

Larry smiled. "Without sand, you cannot have a beach, my friend." He glanced out the window, relieved to see two men rushing toward them, both carrying rescue equipment. "And that would wreak havoc on the finances of the state of California, if nothing else."

Don chuckled softly. "Larry… pebble," he said.

"I'd like to think I'm more like coral," the physicist countered, reaching to open his door. "It's more intricate." The sound of Don's soft laughter followed him as he climbed out of the SUV, making room for the emergency crew.

**NUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RSNUMB3RS**

"I'm alright, Dad, really," Don said for the fifth time. "A few days of R&R and I'll be as good as new."

"So I worry," Alan replied. "I have that right, you know."

Don nodded and covered his father's hand with his own. "I know, Dad. And I appreciate it. Really, I do." He gestured toward the open door. "I don't suppose you'd do me a favor and call the office, would you?" he asked. "They're bound to have heard about the accident by now."

"Of course," the older man assured him. "I'll be back in a few minutes." As he hurried out the door, Charlie pushed away from where he'd been leaning against the wall, watching in silent amusement as their father hovered.

"How are you feeling, really?" Charlie asked, moving to stand beside the bed.

Don sighed. "I'm really feeling like I've been hit by a semi," he answered. "But don't tell Dad that."

Charlie frowned. "I was wondering…" he began, then trailed off.

"What?"

"Well," the mathematician continued. "I've been going over the accident report filed by the MAIT team." Don knew he was referring to the highway patrol's Multidisciplinary Accident Investigation Team. "They said it was caused by the driver in front of you – apparently he had a massive coronary."

Don's expression saddened. "I didn't know that," he said quietly. "Did he make it?"

Charlie shook his head. "That was the only fatality, though," he added. "Which in itself is astounding, considering the enormity of the accident." He paused, letting Don process that information, before continuing, "From what I read, you did some pretty fancy driving, bro."

Don waited for him to continue, certain the compliment wasn't the point of the conversation. He wasn't disappointed.

"The thing that bothers me," Charlie went on, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with one finger. "Is that you were almost in the clear until the end, when the semi showed up. According to the schematics of the scene, you veered to the left and then suddenly swerved to the right." Don picked absently at his blanket instead of replying. "The most logical response would have been to continue heading left," Charlie pressed. "Yet you changed direction." He stopped, letting the unspoken question hang between them.

Finally Don looked up, meeting his gaze. "If I went left, the truck would have hit the passenger side," he answered simply.

Charlie's eyes widened in surprise. "Larry."

Don nodded. "I turned to keep him safe."

"I'd almost forgotten he was with you," Charlie muttered.

"Wasn't he here?"

"Not for long," his brother replied. "The ER nurse said something about taping up his fingers and then he left." Charlie smiled. "Said he seemed concerned about missing a bus."

"Right," Don nodded. "Guess he would have made it back in time for vespers, anyway."

"Or compline." At Don's confused look, he elaborated. "Eight-thirty."

Smiling at the thought of the diminutive physicist attending evening devotions, Don replied, "As long as he makes it there alright."

"Amen," Charlie said and Don groaned at the pun. Settling in a chair by the bed, Charlie laced his fingers together and asked, "So what was it like, being cooped up with Larry for two hours? I can just imagine him talking your ear off."

"It's a good thing he did," Don snapped, his temper flaring. "Or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Charlie put his hands up defensively. "Okay, okay," he soothed. "Sorry I said anything. I just didn't think you two would have much to talk about." He paused. "And Larry isn't exactly known for short, concise sentences."

Don thought over the conversation he and Larry had had while waiting for help to arrive. "Maybe not," he agreed finally, his anger subsiding. "But he's definitely worth listening to." Looking at his brother, he added, "I do it again in a minute."

"Really?" Charlie cocked his head to one side and regarded the older man thoughtfully. "Well, well," he mused. "I never would have believed it."

"What's that?"

Grinning, Charlie replied, "My brother – the newest member of the Fleinhardt fan club."

Don returned the grin. "You bet," he said. "I'm gonna get me a t-shirt and everything." He gestured to his chest. "It's gonna have 'Larry Fleinhardt Fan Club' emblazoned across the front."

"And on the back?" Charlie prompted. "You should have something written on the back. Maybe having to do with outer space or the cosmos."

"No," Don said. "It's gonna say 'Life's a Beach'." At his brother's confused look he added, "Ask Larry to explain it sometime."

Charlie shrugged. "Okay." He leaned forward in his chair and placed a hand just above Don's knee. "I sure am glad you're alright," he said earnestly.

"I'll be fine, bro," Don replied. "It'll take a little while, but I'll be as good as new." Pressing the button to recline the head of the bed, he went on, "Now if you don't mind, I think I'll take a little nap."

"Sure." Charlie waited until Don's breathing evened out and then got up from his chair and went in search of their father.

He found Alan by the nurse's desk, chatting with one of the staff. "Hey, Dad," Charlie called as he walked up.

Alan nodded at the woman and then turned to face him. "How is he?" he asked.

"Sleeping," Charlie replied. "He's fine, actually."

"Good." Studying Charlie's face, he asked, "What is it?"

The younger man shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "I never thought Don and Larry got along that well, but…" He shook his head. "I made a crack about Larry talking a lot and Don just about ripped my head off."

Alan glanced over his son's shoulder to Don's room. "Someone famous once said 'The firmest of friendships have been formed in mutual adversity, as iron is most strongly united by the fiercest flame'," he said softly. Meeting Charlie's gaze he added, "I think your brother made himself a new best friend today." Slinging an arm around the younger man's shoulders, he went on, "Let's go home. Don will probably sleep for the rest of the night – we should get some rest, too."

"Okay," Charlie agreed as they headed down the hallway. "Can we make a stop on the way?" he asked.

"Sure. You hungry?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "No. I want to get Don a t-shirt."

**THE END**


End file.
